


wanna be felled by you (held by you)

by BrenH



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Kidnapping, Knights and Princess AU, Pining Beau, Slow Burn, Tags to be added, established shadowgast
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:09:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23072986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrenH/pseuds/BrenH
Summary: The Ruby of the Sea, Queen of the Menagerie Coast, has called for a number of emissaries to meet in her court, and Beau is sent as the freshly knighted expositor of the Cobalt Soul. When Jester, the nation's princess, has been kidnapped by an unknown entity, it is up to Beau and whoever else she can band together to navigate a precarious political landscape and bring her back home.
Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast, Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett
Comments: 10
Kudos: 97





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title from NWFWMB by hozier

Maybe she’s jaded, but it feels too pointed that Dairon would ensure that her first expedition since being knighted would be to the court of Nicodranas. She understands that this is important, and that Dairon sending her to the Ruby’s court means that they trust her, understands that being sent as the emissary of the Cobalt Soul is an accomplishment that she should take pride in– _does_ take pride in. She only wishes that it were any other court, so she wouldn’t risk further embarrassing herself and now worse, embarrassing Dairon and the entirety of the Cobalt Soul, in front of the princess. 

Again. 

By the time she arrives at court, she’s worked herself into an anxious mess of self-doubt and her only options are to turn tail and run, or to project a mask of confidence she doesn’t feel at this moment. She thinks that maybe if she has a moment alone with Jester she can brag about her recent knighting, and the thought gets her through the gates and into the Lavish Chateau. She’s guided through the vaguely familiar halls, to the war room where many chairs have already been filled. She finds herself seated next to a man with his long auburn hair tied back, his neat but extravagant robes indicative of him being a high ranking mage. She finds herself staring at him out of the corner of her eye, not recognizing him as any mage of the coast, the colours of his robes being potentially of the Dwendalian Empire. She glances around the others sitting around the table, noting the different political entities being represented, feeling herself shrink further in her armor upon the realization that whatever she has been sent here for has far greater implications than Dairon had made her aware of. She’s brought out of her panic when another man steps into the room, taking a vacant seat, and she immediately recognizes him as a mage of the Kryn Dynasty. 

The room erupts into murmurs as the drow takes his seat, and Beau frowns as she hears the word “crick” thrown around heatedly, watches as the mage maintains his composure and waits for everyone to calm down. Beau turns slightly to the Dwendalian mage seated next to her who has remained silent but tense as he stares at the drow. 

“Friend of yours?” Beau asks quietly, fighting the urge to fidget in her seat.

His head turns minutely, but the movement is sharp as his gaze finds and pierces hers. “No. I would certainly not call him that.” 

His accent is thick, Zemnian, so her assumptions were right about him being here with the Dwendalian empire. She shrugs at him. “Curious that you both end up here when your countries are at war. Didn’t think you would have the manpower to spare.”

He narrows his eyes at her, opens his mouth to say something before he pauses. He surveys the table, slowly quieting, before he whispers, “Widogast.”

“Just Beau.” 

He raises an eyebrow, a slight upward tug to the hardset line of his mouth, before his eyes land on the Xhorhasian mage and his face hardens again.

The room falls silent just as quickly as it erupted as the doors open once more. Everyone is quick to stand as Queen Marion, the Ruby of the Sea enters the room, followed closely behind by who Beau recognizes as Bluud, the captain of her guard, and Fjord, a knight she recognizes from the few times she has been here before. Beau’s afraid to breathe too hard, afraid to break the reverent silence as Marion makes her way to the table. The only sounds are the slight chiming of Marion’s jewelry as she steps, and the heavy footsteps of the minotaur following closely behind her. Beau spares a glance to Fjord, who looks far worse for ware than she remembers; There are new wrinkles around his eyes and forehead, and greying at his temples despite how she knows he’s far too young to have aged so much since she last saw him. He looks tired and ragged, like he only recently returned from a mission, his hair is unkempt and his armor is stained with dried blood that he hasn’t had the chance to clean yet. He catches her eye, and she watches as his jaw tenses and his eyes darken as he shakes his head slightly. 

Beau quickly looks back to Marion, standing at the head of the table, takes in the somber set to her, the high tilt to her chin and hardset line of her mouth and Beau steals herself for a summance that she is far out of her depth to be at. 

“Please, be seated.” Marion speaks and everyone listens immediately, settling back into their chairs. Her voice is light but commanding, heavy with something Beau doesn’t want to admit sounds like grief. After a moment, she takes a breath and begins, “My Jester, the princess, has been kidnapped.” Beau’s heart drops into her stomach first, before her stomach drops too, and she’s so glad that she had already been sitting. A wave goes across the room, no one daring to speak but the nervous energy, the grief, the fear, washes over all of them in turn. “It was a few days ago, and I am glad that you have all made it here as quickly as you have, I know this journey is far longer for some. My little sapphire has been taken, kidnapped by men of an allegiance I do not know, but he is not in support of my crown to be sure. It is a lot to ask you all to be here, to ask of you to listen to my plight and lend your aid when I know that our current political landscape is worse for some in this room than others. I will not ask for much more than your time tonight, to listen to the pieces that we have now. I understand many of you will need to confer with others before decisions are made on your behalf, but I would ask that you listen now, and stay for the morning if you have aid that you can lend.” She pauses, surveys the room in solemn silence, and Beau can see the fear and pain in her eyes, and she knows that even if Dairon told her not to, she would remain here. “The morning that it happened, members of my guard attempted to chase down the captors. Commander Fjord was one of them, he will be able to tell you more than I.”

With that, Marion sinks into her chair, the weight of her words pressing down on her. Fjord steps forward, hands pressing down on the table as he speaks. “There were twenty of us, and we pursued the princess’s captors. They wore no colours or crests that I recognized, but they were efficient and ruthless. My… My commander Vandren was killed by them, as were most of us that attempted to follow them. We don’t know much, we know that they’re organized, potentially an unaligned mercenary group.” He exhales, in what might be an attempt at a pained laugh as he runs a gauntleted hand down his face. “We don’t _have_ much of anything, besides a general direction, and the knowledge that they’re very dangerous. Our lack of knowledge of our enemy is part of the problem, which is one of the reasons we invited an expositor here in hopes that the Cobalt Soul will have something that will be able to help us.” 

He meets Beau’s eyes, and she automatically sets her shoulders, straightens her posture as all eyes fall on her, expectantly. “There isn’t much to go on now but,” she turns to look at Marion, meets her eyes confidently, “I will be here to assist in any way I can to bring Jester back to you, you have my word on that.” 

Marion gives her a small smile, kind but sad, as she nods her head. “Thank you, Beauregard. I’m sure my little sapphire would feel safer just to know that you were the one looking for her.” Beau feels her face heat up, hoping her time in the spotlight is done. Marion then turns to the drow giving him a nod as well. “Thank you for coming here, Shadowhand. I know that this is a precarious time for you, and I appreciate your appearance in my court. I understand that your aid may be somewhat limited, just as it is for the archmage.” She turns her attention momentarily to the mage sitting next to Beau, who tenses again, apparently even less inclined to the spotlight than she is. 

“Of course, your highness,” The drow speaks smoothly, his voice lilting and soft. “The Bright Queen would send her regards if she knew, we are… all too accustomed to the loss of our children. I will have to confer with her later this evening, but even if it is not me who stays to offer aid, we will expend what resources we can.”

Beau can feel the tension between the mages from where she sits, knows that everyone else in the room must too as the sounds of shifting become more prominent and no one looks to either of them. Marion must sense it too, but she says nothing about it, merely smiles and nods her thanks before turning to the rest of the assorted emissaries. “Your presence in my court is appreciated, all of yours, and I do not harbour hard feelings for those who cannot offer aid. I will be here for counsel for the evening, as will Commander Fjord. Rooms have been prepared for those of you who wish to stay the night, whether to counsel with your higher ups before leaving in the morning, or for if you have the resources to stay.”

She nods once more to the room as a whole, and Beau is careful to not be the first to leave nor the last, trying to remain a fly on the wall in all of this, even as she leaves to wander around the keep for some time to collect her thoughts.

Jester is missing—not just missing but _kidnapped_. For what gain, she can only imagine, what with the political climate as it is, but the princess of Nicodranas is not much of a political tool. The Menagerie Coast has historically been allied with the Empire, but they have been relatively quiet in the recent altercations between them and the Dynasty. Beau supposes that if the Dynasty wanted to secure the Menagerie as an ally they could kidnap Jester and then return her to make them seem trustworthy but… something about the plot doesn’t ring as genuine to her. Fjord said they didn’t have any colours or crests that he recognized, but that doesn’t mean much of anything. She supposes it could be a band of mercenaries hoping to cash out on the ransom money; everyone knows that Marion would do anything for her daughter, she would probably empty her vaults if it meant her daughter back. But it’s already been a few days, and if ransom was the goal, Beau thinks that Marion is sure to have been contacted about it already, and that isn’t a detail she would leave out, not now. 

Beau finds herself so lost in thought as she passes through another empty hall that she nearly misses the sounds of a heated conversation. 

“I was unaware that you would be here.” 

Beau pauses mid-stride at the harsh whisper. She’s always been nosey, and while now is not the best of times, she recognizes the accent from the mage she’d sat next to, and she finds herself pressing against the wall with every intention of eavesdropping.

“Yes, well, why _wouldn’t_ I be. Why would the Bright Queen not send me.” Another voice hisses back, and Beau’s eyebrows rise as she realizes that this is almost definitely not something that she should be privy to. 

“What do you _mean_? To the best of my knowledge, the Dynasty has never been allied with the Menagerie Coast. I had no reason to think that you would be here, and even less reason to prepare for this!”

Beau creeps along the wall, closer to the passageway the two mages are currently arguing. She peeks around the corner to see the Xhorhasian mage standing rigidly on one side of the hallway, jaw tense as he watches Widogast pace back and forth in frustration along the other side.

“And what better time to broker an alliance, what with the princess missing and our countries at war.” The drow sneers, obviously at the end of whatever patience he may have had. “It isn’t as if I came here to _spite_ you, Caleb. I have my duties just as you have yours.”

“Oh,” Caleb chuckles mirthlessly as he turns to step into the other’s space. “It is rich— _rich_ !—for you to come to me and tell me about _duty_ , Essek. After _everything_ , that is not your place.” 

“Keep your wits about you, Caleb. Now is not the time for this.” 

“It’s _never_ the time!” Caleb’s voice rises, and Beau is quick to leave line of sight, surveying the hall to ensure no one is catching her eavesdropping. There’s a moment of tense silence, a heavy exhale, before the sound of pacing continues. “It is never the time when it comes to… to us, to _this_.”

The silence stretches on, and Beau only has her imagination to fill in the gaps on what any of this means, what these two warring mages could be speaking of. And Beau’s always had an active imagination. The sound of pacing stops, and she dares to peak around the corner once more to find the two locked in an embrace, Essek’s hands cupping Caleb’s cheeks while he presses their foreheads together, and Beau has to turn away, can’t look at what she now realizes is far more of an intimate relationship than she should be privy to. After a moment, she hears Essek speak quietly, muffled as if his lips were pressed to Caleb’s forehead now instead. “We will make time. Soon. But not here, not now.” 

Beau finds herself caught where she is, pressed to the wall, too far from the entrance to escape without being seen if they come this way. She stands there, frozen, holding her breath and ears straining to hear anything when she catches the sound of retreating footsteps. She waits a moment longer, before sighing in relief. Just before she hears footsteps coming towards her now as well. 

She remains frozen a moment longer, tries not to curse under her breath, and begins to quickly and quietly make her escape. She doesn’t make it far before Caleb’s voice rings out behind her, authoritative and echoing in this hall empty save for the two of them, and laced with magic. “Halt.”

She does. She stops, stands still, before slowly turning on her heel to face him. They stare at each other for a moment before she feels her muscles relax and she gives him a forced smile. “Widogast, right?”

“Just Beau.” He acknowledges, face hard as stone as he watches her. “What did you hear?”

Beau purses her lips, cracks her neck to the side as she regards him. “Well, I could lie and tell you I have no clue what you’re talking about,” she watches as his chin rises, his eyes narrow, feels her muscles tense to prepare for action when she sees his fingers twitch, “Or I could be honest and tell you that I heard a lot of shit that I don’t really care about.” 

They stand, maybe 10 feet apart, staring at each other in silence for what feels like ages. Beau tries to act aloof, as if she isn’t ready to leap into a fight if that’s where this goes, sizes up the wizard and is fairly confident she could take him if she got to him before he could cast. She watches his hands carefully, how they curl into fists and shake where they remain at his sides as he watches her with something fierce in his eyes, not hate, but anger and… fear. He’s the first to break the silence. “You are from the empire, are you not Just Beau?”

She narrows her eyes at him, lifts her chin just a bit higher as she regards him curiously. “I am. Kamordah.” 

He nods slowly, his hands relax where they lie at his side but they still shake minutely. “Do you care for it? Your home?”

“Kamordah? Or the Empire as a whole.”

“Both, either.” He watches her, guarded, and when she doesn’t answer he gives a shaky exhale. “I do. I love my home, my empire, but it is not perfect. They, the people ah… in charge of our country, mine and yours… They are not innocent. And they are _wrong_ , about so many things, especially when they view these things as _other_ , as _different_ . There is a… _sickness_ there, in our home, deep seated in everything it does. I would wish to see the conflict between ours and the Dynasty gone, but in order for that… it is not something so easily accomplished by one man.”

Beau remains silent, regarding this man in front of her. This man who is meant to be an emissary of the Empire, who is admitting to not having full allegiance to it as far as Beau’s ears can tell. This man who just about admitted treason to her, someone he’s known a handful of hours and spoken maybe 100 words to. This man who is crossing enemy lines for another mage, one that he must care deeply about. And maybe Beau has always been a sucker for love, even if she hasn’t had too much luck with it herself. “And what does he have to do with that, Essek?”

He tenses again, eyes closing tightly, jaw tensing. Her eyes go back to his hands, watches as they scratch at his forearm before gripping tightly. “He… was an unknown part of the equation. He… Essek Thelyss, of den Thelyss, he’s the Shadowhand of the Bright Queen. His role to play in all this is too complicated to discuss, but he is…”

He trails off, looking past Beau, through the doorway she knows is behind her, that she knows must still be empty but for who knows how much longer. “You said you weren’t friends.” She settles on, trying for levity, trying for a smirk, trying to defuse whatever politically charged plot she’s gotten herself into. 

He lets out another shaky breath and gives her an incredulous look. “Ja, well, I was obviously lying.” 

Beau snorts relaxing her posture and leaning against the wall, “Obviously. Are either of you staying then? To help?”

His face pinches, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “I do not know yet I… I came here with my apprentice, but I have to discuss the matter with the Cerberus Assembly. Essek, I do not know, but… I doubt it. He is too integral to the Dynasty’s politics in times of contention.”

“Do you want to stay?”

Caleb’s silent for a moment staring at some point over Beau’s shoulder, not meeting her eyes. “I would… like to, ja, but it is not so simple for me… I may have my apprentice stay to help if I cannot.” 

Beau nods, kicking off the wall to step past him. She puts a hand on his shoulder, feels how he tenses under it, how uncomfortable he is with her being close. “Well, I’ll be happy to have all the help I can get.” 

She doesn’t stay for an answer, walks out of the hall and to where she knows her room is, to where she knows she’ll have to contact Dairon soon, but her head is pounding with possibilities and the events of the day, and she takes a moment to lie down, and wait.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a relatively small update but it's been a while so... here's a bit more for now

It isn’t until Beau’s been led to her temporary chambers and she’s been lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling for who knows how long that it sets in that Jester’s been kidnapped. She’d spent all that time in between being told and getting here thinking about the how and the why, but now lying in silence, her mind calming enough for the reality of what  _ has  _ happened to sink in. It’s a horrifying realization, creeping up the back of her spine, leaving her cold, numbing her arms and legs until she has to spring off the bed to move, to pace, to do something. Jester is gone, she was  _ taken _ . 

“Who the fuck would  _ do that _ ?” Beau yells to no one, groaning as she fists her hands in her hair. 

The first time she’d met Jester hadn’t even been in the castle, she’d been in town, running errands for Dairon while they spoke with the queen. It wasn’t  _ fair _ that Beau was stuck running boring errands, but she did her job, ran around picking up the various things on the list Dairon had given her. She almost missed the blue tiefling in her sour mood and her rush, would have walked right past the bakery she’d been standing outside of and not looked twice if she hadn’t shoved a small pamphlet in her face.  _ “Have you heard the good word of the Traveler today, miss?”  _ Beau doesn’t remember too many details of their first meeting, remembers being confused, remembers taking the pamphlet from the strange woman, remembers being told to try the cinnamon frosting cupcakes at the bakery if she was in town for long. Remembers thinking she was cute, that she could afford to spend a few minutes extra in town without Dairon getting too on her case about it. Remembers all too vividly asking her if she came here often, to which Jester giggled and asked if she meant the town, or the bakery, and Beau flushed at what a stupid question that was, and an even worse pick-up line. Remembers hurriedly thanking her for the pamphlet and the recommendation before walking away as fast as she reasonably could. 

Remembers how she choked only a few hours later in the Ruby’s castle when she was introduced to princess Jester. Jester was kind enough not to voice what had happened earlier, but she had winked at Beau, giggling next to her mother’s side. Marion had turned to her then, smiling kindly, asked her if she had been the “lovely page” her daughter had told her she’d met in town. Beau thought she’d put up a good poker face when she responded that yes, she had been, only for Dairon to later tell her her face had been red as a ruby and she’d been stuttering the whole time. She made a vow to leave her room as little as possible for the remainder of the stay, only for Dairon to pointedly tell her to run errands that would put her across Jester’s path.

Not that she ever truly minded.

She’s shaken from her memories by a soft knock at her door. She groans, pushing herself to stand as the door opens. “Am I… interrupting?” 

Fjord stands in the doorway, cleaned up and out of his armor, but Beau can’t help but notice how tired he still looks, even without the blood covering him. “No.” Beau sighs, running her palm over her eyes as she falls back to sit on her bed again. “What can I do for you, Tusktooth?” 

Fjord snorts, closing the door softly. “I’ve told you not to call me that.” 

Beau tries for a grin, knows it comes off fake, knows Fjord’s always been quick to tell her when she’s coming off as an asshole. “You never tell Jester not to call you that.”

He doesn’t bother to correct her on her mannerisms this time. “I did, actually, she just takes it as reason to keep going.” He smiles tightly at her, and she knows it’s fake, knows they’re both placating each other, knows it’s easier this way. He sighs heavily, falling into a chair on the far side of the room. “You talk to Dairon yet?” Beau cracks her neck, glancing over to where the communication mirror lies in her bag, untouched. “That’s a no then.”

“I’ll get around to it.”

“What if they tell you no?”

“Then fuck ‘em.” Fjord raises an eyebrow at her. “Don’t tell anyone I said that though.”

He laughs, or at least Beau will count it as a laugh given the circumstances; a short, choked kind of exhale that she knows means he’s trying to keep spirits up, but his eyes are far away when he stares at the wall. “I didn’t know that they’d send you. I hoped, of course, Jester told me you said you’d been knighted but… I wasn’t sure.”

“Does Jester talk about me a lot?” Fjord looks up at her then, the smallest of smiles creeping onto his lips and Beau falls onto her back and just as quickly adds, “Don’t answer that actually.”

He hears his soft chuckle, hears him stand from the chair and sit next to her on the bed. “She does, all the time.” A pause, an unspoken  _ she did,  _ hanging in the air as his voice quiets a bit. “Always says she has plans for the next time you visit.” 

He picks at his fingernails, and Beau feels a sudden gratitude at how his shoulders slump, at how he refuses to present himself to her as he does in court. At how he knows she won’t judge him for crushing under the weight of all of this. How he won’t judge her either. “So, does this make you… Captain Tusktooth then?”

“Yeah I… yeah. Guess so.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Fjord sits up straighter, takes a deep breath. He doesn’t bother to set his shoulders like Beau knows he does when he’s preparing for something big, he just looks like he’s trying desperately not to deflate. There’s more she could try to say, but she’s never been that great at comforting people, and she’d rather not make things worse. Beau sits up next to him, bumps her shoulder with his.

Beau tries not to think about how much she enjoys Fjord’s company sometimes, it’s too close to the friendship Dairon always warns will obscure her judgement. Especially since he’s so closely tied to a political entity. Beau respects Dairon immensely, has taken every one of her lessons to heart even if she didn’t show it, but there are things she disagrees with. Jester was Beau’s first real friend, ever, and she’s never once regretted that, but it’s hard to be friends with Jester and not see Fjord. He was never even her personal guard, just a guard Jester had befriended and dragged along everywhere with her, an excuse to be able to get away from the castle sometimes because Fjord was with her. And Beau likes him, truly. He’d been kind to her, even when she’d been an asshole, but he wasn’t a pushover like some of the people she’s met. She respects him, appreciates how he taught her some extra swordplay when Dairon wouldn’t, how he’d groan when she dragged him out on a run or a morning workout. He was steady, steadier than Beau was, even if she only ever saw him for maybe a week or two at a time infrequently, whenever Jester sent her letters, or more recently magical messages, she’d always be sure to mention Fjord. It was nice. It was grounding.

They stay like that, in silence, until Beau starts to feel restless again. “What’re we gonna do?”

“I’m not sure.” Fjord runs a hand through his hair, glances at Beau from the corner of his eyes. “All I really know right now is it’s gonna be a small party. It would have to be small anyway given how little we know but… I don’t know. I know I’m supposed to lead us, but you’re coming so I won’t have to do that on my own. I’m gonna try talking to Caduceus later, see if he’ll be able to help at all—”

“Who’s Caduceus?”

Fjord blinks at her, and she swears she sees the hint of a blush creeping up his cheeks as he turns away. “He’s a cleric, came by here not too long ago. Said his home was in danger… Marion thought he meant to ask for her aid but he just wanted to set up a shrine here for the Wildmother. He’s nice, he and Jester have tea parties I get roped into occasionally.”

“He’s nice, huh?” He gives her a bland look. She shrugs. “Just sayin... you never call  _ me  _ nice.” 

“You’re not nice.” She rolls her eyes, and he shakes his head at her before he sighs. “Regardless, he might be able to help. I don’t know if the Shadowhand or the Archmage are gonna be able to do much given current affairs…” He pauses for a moment, stares at the door and then at Beau, lowers his voice a bit. “I overheard a bit of a conversation between Ophelia Mardun and the queen earlier. From what I heard, it sounded like Mardun was asking about payment for the return of the princess… her prices were steep from what I could tell. Not that Marion wouldn’t pay anything to have her daughter back and I think she’s even considering it given she even got an invitation in the first place but…” He exhales through his nose, face scrunched in distaste.

“But she knows she’d be funding slave trade.” Fjord nods and Beau rolls her shoulders. “We don’t need them. Me, you, Caduceus… the archmage, Widogast, he said that even if he couldn’t help personally he’d make a point to send his apprentice so… Four of us. We can do that.”

It sounds hollow to her, and she knows to Fjord too, but neither of them have any intention of saying anything about it. They can’t give up before they even try, they both want to save Jester with everything in them. Fjord could have died trying to rescue her, and Beau knows he would have. Knows that she would too.

Fjord stands, rolling his shoulders as he walks to the door. “You should talk to Dairon. I’m gonna see what kind of support I can scrounge up.” He opens the door, pauses halfway out. “I’ll see you in the morning.” 

It’s not a question really, they both know Beau will be here, that she’ll chase after Jester just as desperately as Fjord will. But she answers him anyway, tells him she’ll see him in the morning, and he nods and walks out the door, closing it quietly behind him after squaring his shoulders. 

Beau doesn’t talk to Dairon, not immediately anyway. She lies on her bed, paces the room, stares out the window, anything to avoid the conversation. The longer she waits, the longer her thoughts dwell on Jester, and worry and fear gnaw on her nerves until she’s restless and frustrated, wishing she could go try to track her down  _ now _ . 

The moon is well into the sky and the stars twinkling condescendingly down on her when she finally walks over to pick up her mirror to talk to Dairon. She knows waiting too long will only put her in hot water, knows she’s already taken far too long and Dairon will be disappointed. She only hopes they’ll be lenient given the circumstances. 

Wherever Dairon is, it’s dark. They appear, barely lit in the mirror, but there’s just enough light for Beau to see the sour look on their face. “Before you berate me, I know it’s late, I’m sorry I was… talking to Fjord.” Dairon raises an eyebrow but says nothing more. Beau cracks her neck. “The princess has been kidnapped, and the Queen has requested that any available persons aid in her recovery.” 

“And you intend to go?”

Beau squares her shoulders and tilts her chin up. “I do.”

Dairon sighs, checking over their shoulder. “Very well.”

Beau blinks once, twice, three times. “That’s it?”

The hint of a smirk plays on Dairon’s lips. “If I said no, would you still go?” Beau opens her mouth but Dairon shakes their head before she can make a noise. “I am well aware of the nature of your relationship with the princess, I know that she is your friend. I would caution you to show restraint, to not forget your training because of your emotions. Stay steadfast, do not trust those that do not deserve it. Be careful.”

Beau wants to say something, to respond, but there’s a lump in her throat and a burn in her eyes. All she can do is nod, trying desperately to swallow around the sheer amount of emotion lodged in her throat. Those were never something she and Dairon shared. 

“Good. Then unless there is anything else?”

Beau’s lips feel dry and her voice feels weak as she manages to croak out a quiet ‘thank you.’ Dairon nods at her, a small smile on their lips, and Beau prays to Ioun that the pride she sees on their face is real. 

Despite everything, Beau falls asleep with a smile on her face.


End file.
